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Friday, December 9, 2016

Markus Reeves is sucking. Big-time. Toiling away on a minor-league hockey team hundreds of miles away from home, he's watching his dreams of an NHL career fade away. Add in the lingering guilt he has over the dramatic demise of his relationship with college girlfriend, Mekena, and he's a mess on and off the ice.

But the family of his heart, the Sinclairs, won't let Markus suffer any longer. When he arrives himself back in Nashville for a trial run on the Assassins, it feels like his life may be making a turn for the better. If only he could get Mekena to forgive him...

Mekena Preston has been hurting since fleeing Nashville following the horror of Markus's betrayal with her sister. Now a professional photographer, Mekena finds herself in the same place at the same time with Markus to celebrate Lucy and Benji Paxton's wedding. Neither of them has been able to move on—and they're starting to wonder if they really want to.

They're headed for a face-off at the altar unless they can confront their past and unearth the truth about what really happened on that fateful night.

My name is Toni Aleo and I’m a total dork.I am a wife, mother of two and a bulldog, and also a hopeless romantic.I am the biggest Shea Weber fan ever, and can be found during hockey season with my nose pressed against the Bridgestone Arena’s glass, watching my Nashville Predators play!When my nose isn’t pressed against the glass, I enjoy going to my husband and son’s hockey games, my daughter’s dance competition, hanging with my best friends, taking pictures, scrapbooking, and reading the latest romance novel.I have a slight Disney and Harry Potter obsession, I love things that sparkle, I love the color pink, I might have been a Disney Princess in a past life… probably Belle.… and did I mention I love hockey?

Thursday, December 8, 2016

Welcome to the #PNR and #UF Giveaway Party!

Who’s ready for a giveaway you can get your hands on? A bunch of authors
got together to bring your this Big Box of Paperbacks Giveaway! One
lucky winner is going to win SIXTY-TWO (62) Paperback Books!
How’s that for an epic Book-Lover’s Prize?! If you are a fan of Urban
Fantasy, Dystopian Fiction, or Paranormal/SciFi Romance, you’re going to
want to get in on this! The best part is that even if you don’t win,
you’ll be subscribed to the sponsoring authors newsletters for a chance
to grab some freebies, snag some special offers, and enter more
giveaways!

—

Here are a couple of sneak peeks!

Excerpt from Foxblood: A Brush with the Moon by Raquel Lyon

The funeral was a typically sombre affair, alive with soggy tissues and streaky make-up. I stood at the back, letting the vicar’s voice wash over me, and spent the whole time staring at the flower-laden coffin, wondering if the lid would suddenly flip up and a fanged monster would escape to reap its vengeance on the congregation.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t happen, and as the mourners dispersed in the direction of the pub, I quietly snuck off home. I wasn’t in the mood for crowds and needed time to think, time to try to make sense of at least something, but as I turned to close the door, it was obstructed by a perfectly polished black shoe that belonged to…

“Sebastian?”

“Seb, please,” he said, easing his way through. “Only my father calls me Sebastian.” He checked down the backstreet and closed the door securely. His eyes scanned the flat. “Nice place.”

“I like it.”

“It doesn’t bother you? Living over a funeral parlour?” he asked.

“Why would it? The neighbours are quiet.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke; neither did he comment. He simply stood silently, staring. It was very unnerving and made my legs go all wobbly. Perhaps if I turned away from him, he’d disappear again? It was worth a shot. I forced my jelly legs over to the front window and stared out at nothing in particular. The light was subdued, and the sky had darkened to an air force grey. A low mist was beginning to carpet the distant fields, and I wondered if snow had been forecast.

I knew my little experiment hadn’t worked. He was still there. I could feel his presence and smell his scent, a musky, inviting aroma that filled my senses and sent my head into a whirl, and it was getting stronger.

“Your friends interrupted us the other day. Can we talk now?” he whispered softly into my neck, and his fingertips traced a fiery trail down my spine.

“What’s the point? There’s nothing to say. I wish you’d just leave me alone,” I said, lowering my head in time to see Lara leaving the newsagents. She glanced up with a look of fury contorting her face as Sebastian’s hands reached around either side of me and grabbed the window frame.

“I can’t do that. I’m not that strong,” he said.

I studied the arms now imprisoning me, with their perfectly formed muscles straining against the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt, and seriously doubted his statement. His stance was predatory and made me feel uncomfortable. I ducked under his elbow to escape, but he caught me around the waist and pulled me against him. Our bodies moulded together perfectly, and the strength of his grip made me feel like a china doll that he’d be able to crush in an instant. He was almost a full head taller than I was, and the warmth of his breath caressed my forehead. How easy it would be to reach up and taste those lips. I imagined the feel of them, and my own parted in an involuntary invitation.

The full Foxblood series can be seen here: http://foxifae.wixsite.com/raquellyon

--

Autumn Winters, Realm Watchers Book 1by J. S. Malcom

The
rain has stopped, but fog crept in while I sat in Rory’s. I walk
through that fog now, the streetlights casting cones of luminescence
that capture swirling mist. I should go straight home, but I really want
a bottle of wine. J.J.’s Market is only two blocks off and I walk
toward neon signs advertising beer and cigarettes, drawn like a moth.
Not long ago, I was newly married, looking forward to finishing my MFA
in Design with the hope of someday starting my own business. I barely
drank and rarely got drunk. Now, I’m wandering around out here at night
trying to avoid ghosts and unwilling to go home without alcohol because
I’m afraid I won’t sleep. My eyes start to prickle and I wipe the back
of my hand across my face.

And,
no, I’m not alone. I can’t hear her behind me—her steps will never make
sound again. All the same, I feel her there and soon she walks beside
me.

“Hello?” she says.

I keep walking. God, it breaks my heart but I don’t want her next to me.

“Can you hear me?”

Yes, I can hear you. I say nothing.

One
block to go and maybe I’ll just uncork that bottle right in the store.
With any luck, she’ll veer off and find some other lucky person to latch
onto.

“I
really need your help.” Her breath hitches as her voice rises in pitch.
She’s also crying and I just can’t ignore her—it’s not about me
anymore.

I slow down, then stop. I wipe my eyes, realizing that she’s not the only one crying.

“Are you okay?” she says.

Seriously? Things have gotten that bad?

I take a deep breath to calm down. “I’m fine. Okay, I’m lying but I can deal with that later. What’s going on with you?”

“I’m not dead,” she says.

I
turn to look at her. No, she doesn’t look dead but many of them don’t.
Not to me, anyway. Some are more translucent while others appear
basically the same as you and me, give or take the glow around them.
That’s not guaranteed either. People are all different,
whether dead or alive. One of my new theories is that we all start out
as “dead” before becoming “alive” again. Like a lightbulb switching on
and off again here in this realm. I think it’s a circular system. It
seems an efficient use of energy. In this theory, ghosts are glitches.
But this girl next to me isn’t interested in hearing about my theories,
which change daily anyway. She just wants to know what’s going on.

I
really don’t want to go there right now but I’m stuck in this
situation. I look at her young, beautiful face. Trusting eyes stare back
at me.

“I’m really sorry,” I say. “Did it happen fast? Was it a car crash or something?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what happened.”

I don’t want to take it to the next level but, evidently, I have no choice. “Did you commit suicide?”

That
happens a lot too, I’ve come to learn. Suicide is a big one for getting
you grounded. You cause that kind of pain and you just can’t move on.

She shakes her head again. “No. Please, that isn’t what happened.”

I think for a moment, hesitating because I hate the dark stuff. I really don’t want to know if she was murdered.

Ella Connolly is looking forward to starting a new adventure in her life. After putting her party girl, headline-grabbing tabloid exploits behind her, she has become a responsible and successful entrepreneur. Moving across the pond to Manhattan, she’s determined to make the dream for her boutique to become an international retail brand come true.

While in the States, her overprotective brother insists she have a full-time security detail. This complicates Ella’s plans in more ways than one.

Alex Robertsen’s life is in shambles. After losing the woman he loves to his brother, he’s been on a steady diet of booze and easy women in an effort to make himself numb. Things needed to change.

Change is good.

Good, that is, until Alex finds himself thrust into an all too familiar situation.

He’s obligated by a professional oath to protect Ella at all costs.

She’s vowed to not let distractions, even the ruggedly handsome ones, keep her from her goals.

Christy Pastore lives in the Midwest with her husband, two lovable dogs and their crazy cool cat. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Textiles, Apparel and Merchandising and Marketing. Writing has always been a part of her life. Her first writing gig was for a celebrity entertainment website. Later she went on to create her own blogazine and media company combining her love of writing with fashion and marketing. When's she not writing flirty and dirty books or updating her celebrity fashion blog, she loves shopping online, binge watching her favorite shows and daydreaming.

She believes books, especially love stories are an escape from the real world.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

“You have to fall in love,” Alyssa suggests. And then, because she’s my publicist, she adds the key word: “Publicly.”

My name is Ashton Moran, and I’m CEO of the $2.2 billion Hurricane Apparel company. You’d think that’d be enough, but it’s not. Not for Alyssa. She says my public image sucks. She says my being a womanizer is hurting Hurricane’s brand.

So she found this girl, Jenna, who I’m supposed to pretend I’m in love with for the press. I’m not supposed to sleep with any other women for as long as this farce goes on. Only with Jenna — if she’s into it, which she will be.

I understand what Alyssa is trying to do by making Hurricane more “family friendly,” but … Me? In love? With only one woman?

There’s no way this is going to work.

The Clothing Mogul is part of the Trillionaire Boys’ Club series by Aubrey Parker. Each book tells the story of one of the Club’s powerful members … and you’re going to want to collect them all.

My signature series is the Trillionaire Boys' Club, but in general I write intelligent, hot, story-driven romance novels.

All three of those elements matter. I focus on story because it's the "feels" that matter most, and great emotion comes from compelling stories with believable characters. (So if you like paper-thin plots, I'm not your author.)

But I also write hot because it's how I'm wired, and I won't apologize for how I'm wired.

And lastly I write intelligent stories -- something you'll need to experience to understand.After reading something like Trevor's Harem, you'll either love me or decide I'm not for you. Either is cool. Different strokes for different folks, and all that.

I love to explore new places and ideas as a writer, and I have very smart and cool readers who give me permission to take my stories wherever my heart leads me.

Blurb:Perfectionistic Branna Lind has found true love with James Newbern, but the winds of Hurricane Katrina have pushed their wedding date into an uncertain future. She can’t wait on Fleur de Lis to be restored to marry James. They need to wed pronto, before she reveals news sure to shock her family.

James is determined to protect Branna. Since their engagement, his gun toting ex-fiancée has been dipping into crazy. He’s certain she’ll settle down after the wedding, but when she steals Branna’s heirloom pearls—her something old for the wedding—James takes matters into his own hands. And despite Branna’s ranting, he’s not agreeing to a quickie Vegas wedding. His fiancée will be a Fleur de Lis bride, just as tradition dictates. Or he’ll die trying.

The path to “I do” is more challenging than Branna and James ever imagined, but they’re determined to get their happily ever after.

Linda Joyce is an Amazon Best Selling author and 4-time RONE Award Finalist who writes about assertive females and the men who can’t resist them. She has three series: Fleur de Lis, Fleur de Lis Brides, and the Sunflower series. She’s penned two novellas, Behind the Mask and Christmas Bells, which will be released in December.

Linda’s a big fan of jazz and blues. She attributes her love of those musical genres to her southern roots, which run deep in Louisiana. If you walk-through several New Orleans cemeteries you’ll find many of her people buried there. She’s lived coast to coast curtesy of her father’s Air Force career. She penned her first manuscript while living in Japan, the country where her mother was born and raised. Now she lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and General Beauregard, their four-legged boy.

Bed linens, scooped from the bed, were piled in a heap on the floor. The mattress ruined by a large X from corner to corner, looked naked and raw. A bedside lamp had been smashed against the wall. A gaping hole in the drywall sprouted pink insulation.

“Miss Lind. Do you have any enemies? This appears to be a threat or a message rather than a burglary. Can you identify anything taken?”

“My pearls?”

James stepped away. She raced to her dresser, her heart thudding faster than racecar pistons, she yanked on the top dresser drawer. A moment of hope shot through her as she reached for the dark blue velvet box.

The string of perfectly matched, white pearls were gone. Her wedding would be incomplete without that special something old. The thief had robbed her unborn child of a precious family heirloom. “Oh, God.”

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